The Times of their Lives
by silentclock
Summary: The war has only just begun, but for three seventh-year Slytherins, everything is about to change. They face the Dark Lord's rise with only the bonds of friendship to pull them through the darkness. -twoshot-
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** This is the first chapter of a two-shot story detailing the lives of ordinary students during wartime. Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

 **The Times of their Lives**

 **By silentclock**

Summer turned to fall almost overnight in 1972, the first chill catching fast to the air with no designs on pulling up its roots until spring chased it despairingly into the past. Such was the way of things. Shadows stretched long across the ground beneath wispy grey clouds and a hard blue sky. The castle loomed above all, its ancient stones reflecting the last rays of a setting sun across the shimmering lake. A trio in green-trimmed robes lounged upon a blanket on a bank overlooking the water.

Silas Ellington lay on his back, his dark eyes cast up at the sky. The horizon glowed a brilliant orange as the sun dipped beneath the tree line. There would be a full moon tonight, and the sky would fill with stars. They wouldn't need wandlight to find their way back to the castle.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Alexis Brennan lay beside him, her body pressed against his and their fingers intertwined.

He looked down, taking in the sight of her. Auburn hair glistened, absorbing the day's last light. She smelled of lilacs after a spring rain. "It certainly is."

Their NEWTs would be on them before they knew it, and moments like these were precious. The world outside the castle's battlements awaited. Of late, there had been rumblings in Slytherin's dungeons. Dark stories. A name whispered in the night, or sometimes not spoken at all. Two years ago, he'd have thought it a mummer's play, a scary story told to keep the first-years in line. Now he knew better. Primal fears itched at the back of his mind, hidden but always present.

Ryan Hawkins sat to their side, his back stiff and his eyes staring down at the lake. A silver badge gleamed on his chest. "He called on us this summer."

Exactly who He was went unspoken. There was power in words, but sometimes the things that went unsaid carried just as much weight. Present company knew all too well.

Silas sat up with a start. He sought out his oldest friend's gaze, but Ryan was staring into the distance. "What's he like?"

Ryan shook his head. He swallowed. "Charming. That's the first thing that comes to mind. But there's something…" He exhaled, trying to find the right word. "There's something _off_ about him. Mum loves him, though, and Dad'll go along for her sake."

"What about you?"

He laughed, a hollow sound that came out closer to a shudder. "I reckon he terrifies me."

Silas sighed, collapsing into Alexis' embrace. There would be a time for more questions, but not tonight. Tonight they would watch the stars take hold in the sky and think back on happier days, for tomorrow was coming—faster, and more deadly, than any of them cared to admit.

Ryan turned his head, looking at them for the first time. "Whatever happens, we'll face it together, right?"

Silas smiled. The first stars had taken hold in the sky, and gods were they bright. "Always."

* * *

Memory and reality didn't match. From the first moment Silas set foot inside this common room seven years ago, it had been his second home. Walls done up in comforting greens and with a fire crackling in the hearth, conversation had flowed fast and easy between quick friends. He didn't even recognize it now.

Hundreds of eyes darted back and forth across a room filled with equal measures of fear and suspicion. The fire seemed a little less bright and the shadows flitting across the floor a little more menacing. Silas and Alexis occupied a settee in the corner furthest from the door. Ryan sat on a chaise lounge facing them. Silas's gaze flicked from his friends to the entryway as the door sprang open, his fingers tightening around his wand. His grip slackened when Snape crossed the threshold.

Offhand, Silas couldn't recall the boy's first name, but he knew him to be a second-year. If the stories were to be believed, Snape outstripped his year-mates by a fair margin when it came to wandwork. Lucius Malfoy had taken him under his wing last year. To Silas's mind, that could mean only one thing. When Snape made a beeline across the common room before drawing up a chair beside Avery and Mulciber, a pair of fourth-years with a penchant for nasty curses, Silas's suspicions were confirmed. The three younger wizards leaned in close to one another, their whispers not carrying across the room.

Eventually, Silas shifted his narrowed eyes from Snape to Ryan. "Any word from dear old Lucius?"

Ryan clenched his fist. "He's been rather insistent. Abraxas's doing, I'm sure. No doubt he's got plenty of eyes and ears in here already—" His lips grew thin, a touch of bitterness creeping into his voice. "—but the Head Boy simply _must_ be brought into the fold."

"What will you do?" Alexis asked.

Ryan shrugged, looking away from them.

She put a hand on his knee. "We're here for you, if you want to talk things out. Don't go off and do something stupid."

"Something stupid? Without the pair of you?" He couldn't help but grin. "I wouldn't dream of it."

They fell in to a companionable silence after that, with Alexis and Silas snuggled up against one another and Ryan's focus lost in the book on his lap. Given enough time, they could have almost convinced themselves everything was just as it always had been. Then Slughorn walked into the room.

Their head of house took long strides across the common room, not coming to a stop until he reached Lucy Hollingsworth, a fifth-year with kind eyes and an easy smile. Slughorn put a hand on her shoulder and whispered something into her ear. Her face fell, her eyes glistening as Slughorn helped her shakily to her feet.

She wailed as Slughorn guided her into the hallway, a sound that wrenched at Silas' heart. He wouldn't forget that moment, not as long as he lived. The utter anguish on that poor girl's face.

No one made any move to acknowledge her departure.

* * *

The first Quidditch match of the year pitted Gryffindor against Ravenclaw. Silas and Alexis wore blue in support of the Eagles' keeper, an old friend from their childhoods. Ryan wore his usual green-trimmed robes.

The teams took to the air. Silas watched them but didn't really follow. He didn't have an eye for the game, and his mind was elsewhere. No one had seen Lucy Hollingsworth since the night Slughorn whisked her out of the common room. They found the reason for her disappearance in the _Prophet_ the following morning, two meagre paragraphs relegated to the fourth page.

Joshua Hollingsworth, Lucy's father, was a half-blood and an Auror grade three. After his shift, Auror Hollingsworth stepped into the Floo to return home from the Ministry, but he never stepped out. The Ministry conducted a thorough search, but he wasn't found. Dead or alive. Now that one of their own had disappeared, the Aurors were closing ranks and had little to say to the media.

"Gryffindor's really flying circles around them, huh?" Alexis asked.

"Hm?" He looked up at the scoreboard. Gryffindor led 70 to 20. "Oh, yeah, I suppose so."

He couldn't shake Lucy Hollingsworth from his head. They'd hardly ever spoken. He didn't know much about the girl—hadn't even known her father was an Auror until reading it in the paper—but the image of her face crumbling as her heart broke haunted him. Wherever she was, Silas hoped she was well. As well as she could be, at any rate. He thought about his own father and his little bookshop off Diagon Alley, and he couldn't help but imagine himself in Lucy's shoes.

He shuddered.

"All right, Silas?" Alexis squeezed his hand.

"Yeah, Allie. Just thinking."

"Anyone ever tell you that you think too much?"

He wrapped his arm around her, a smile tugging at his lips. "You may have mentioned it a time or two."

"You'd do well to remember it." She ran a hand through his hair before tapping the side of his head with her forefinger. "One of these days, you're going to get lost up there."

"Good thing I've got you to find me, huh?"

The rest of the game passed in a blur, and Silas barely registered that Gryffindor had won going away. After the game, with dusk fast approaching, Silas and Alexis wandered the grounds. Ryan had returned to the castle, with some Head Boy duty or another demanding his attention. Silas had his left arm around Allie's waist, twirling his wand between the fingers of his right hand. With two flicks, he cast a pair of warming charms on them.

"Seventh year," he said. "It'll be over before you know it."

She sighed. "Where has the time gone?"

There was a long pause before he spoke again. "Decided what you're going to do after graduation yet?"

They walked along the rocky shoreline, the water of the Great Lake gently lapping at their feet. Alexis hesitated before answering. "I got in, you know? At Saint Mungo's, I mean. The letter came this morning."

He tried to smile at her, but he couldn't force it to reach his eyes. "Congratulations."

"I'm sorry. I should have told you sooner. I just…"

"Couldn't think of the right words?"

She nodded, biting at her lip. "It's such a big deal. Huge, really. They don't accept many applicants. Just think, me a Healer."

"So you're going to do it?"

She shrugged.

They pulled to a stop. Silas collapsed onto a wide rock just above the waterline, and Alexis followed suit sitting beside him. He turned to face her, but she stared straight ahead, watching the sun set over the lake. Their hands were still entwined. "You'll make a good Healer. Truly."

"I hope so." She laid her head against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his breath against her cheek. "What about you? Still planning to head for the continent?"

He nodded. "It's not safe for us here, me and my dad. Not anymore."

Silence fell over them in a wave as they tracked the sun's descent. He'd always known that they may go their separate ways. Now, though, faced with the prospect of it happening so soon, he felt his chest constricting. A lump formed in his throat.

"I love you, you know?" He'd said the words before, but he'd never felt them with such unrelenting certainty.

The corners of her mouth turned upward, but she didn't face him. "I know."

* * *

"Seers on Sunday, mate? No way. They're weak." Ryan shook his head.

"And I suppose you're going to say Dragon Fire is better?" Silas pushed him by the shoulder.

"Much."

"Keep dreaming. Did you even listen to their last album? Complete rubbish."

Ryan stopped on a dime, pulling Silas to a standstill with a hand around his wrist. With narrowed eyes, Ryan craned his neck, examining the corridor. "Hear that?"

Silas shook his head.

"This way. Come on." Ryan took off at a jog, and Silas followed on his heels. Noticing that Ryan's wand was in his hand, Silas drew his own. He followed around the corner and down a staircase.

The first sounds of spellfire found their ears. Screamed incantations and shouts of pain reverberated through the hallway. With a flick of his wand, Ryan blasted open a classroom door. Chaos greeted them inside. The Head Boy appraised the situation in an instant.

Ryan cast his spell so fast Silas almost missed it—he had always been awed by his friend's skill—and four wands flew into his outstretched hand.

"Tsk, tsk, Mister Montague. I'd have expected better of you. What _will_ Professor McGonagall say about her prefect dueling in an abandoned classroom?" Ryan smiled, but his eyes were dark. "I imagine she'll be rather disappointed, wouldn't you say?"

Abashed, the prefect took a keen interest in the floor directly in front of his feet. "Apologies, sir."

Silas examined the room. Another Gryffindor stood beside the chastised prefect. A pair of Slytherins occupied the opposite side of the room, behind an overturned desk. The underside of the desk was scorched black. Around them, the shattered remnants of perhaps a dozen chairs littered the floor.

"That'll be a detention for the pair of you," Ryan said, and the prefect gave him a tight nod in response. "I trust you can find your way back to your common room?"

The two boys practically sprinted from the room.

"As for you—" Ryan turned to face the Slytherins. Their smirks at the Gryffindors' punishments disappeared at the look on the Head Boy's face. They paled. "A word with Professor Slughorn is in order, I think."

Silas watched on as Ryan guided the two boys out of the wrecked classroom. Alone, he began to appreciate the extent of the damage. The classroom was well and truly trashed. Every piece of furniture in the room seemed to have been destroyed. Craters marked where the stone floor had been blasted with curses, shrapnel spreading to the far corners of the room. This was no schoolyard squabble. It was a small miracle that no one was hurt. Yet.

* * *

Silas could hardly wait to see his father. The term passed him by in the blink of an eye, but it felt like an age had passed since he'd last seen the man. His father was the quiet, bookish type. More at home in the world of pages and ink than the world of people. Since mother died, he'd retreated further into his books. Silas worried for him.

Silas and the others filed off the Express. Ryan gave his oldest friend a one-armed hug before departing. "Have a good holiday, mate."

"You as well."

Ryan clapped him on the back a final time before grabbing his trunk and disapparating. That left just Silas and Alexis.

"I'll see you, won't I?" she asked. "On Christmas."

Silas smiled. "I'd like that."

Silas pressed his lips against hers, a brief yet tender goodbye, before she too disappeared.

In years past, his father would meet him at the station. Now that he'd reached his majority, such a trip was unnecessary. Following his friends' footsteps, Silas gathered up his belongings and apparated away.

He reappeared at the foot of the path leading to his father's home in southern Gloucester. A cobblestone lane led him up to a cottage with a thatched roof—the only house he'd ever called home. He touched his wand to the doorknob and stepped inside.

"Dad," he called out, "I'm home."

A chill clung to the air inside the house. No fire burned in the living room hearth. No candles cast their light through the hallways.

"Dad?"

No pages rustled as his father allowed himself to get lost in another world. No meal cooked in the kitchen and no smells wafted to his nose.

Fear clutched at his heart. He called out his father's name once more, his voice cracking as he spoke.

No one answered.

No one was there.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

The sun rose into a cloudless blue sky on Boxing Day. Gods was it bright. The air bit at him, chilling him to the bone even several long hours after he'd come back inside. As good a day as any other for a funeral, Silas reckoned.

Mother died in the heat of summer. It rained at her funeral—a heavy, pounding rain that finally petered out about halfway through the ceremony but left a stickiness in the air that only contributed to the misery of the whole affair. It was a Muggle service, per her final wishes. Filled with Muggle guests and Muggle customs. It had seemed wrong, somehow. Like a denial of who she was.

Not so for his father. Much as he disdained their traditions, Cygnus Ellington IV could trace his name and his blood back to the Norman Conquest. For him, the old ways would be observed. Too bad Silas was the only one left to observe them.

Silas covered the mirrors with black crape—there were seven of them in the cottage, he now realized, each too eager to reflect his lonesome visage back at him. His wand remained stowed beneath his plain black robe as he covered the last one. Custom demanded he do this task by hand. With trembling fingers, he tucked the fabric behind the gilded frame and against the wall, letting it fall flat over the surface until his pale reflection was at last hidden.

Not sparing the mirror another glance, he turned and strode down the stairs. That task finished, he stepped outside and affixed a black wreath to the front door. Not that anyone would ever see it. They didn't have any neighbors, and he wasn't expecting any company. Regardless, he would do his duties. All of them. For his father's sake.

His father was home. Covered by a black shroud and resting atop a bier in the living room, but home nonetheless. Lucy Hollingsworth's father hadn't been so fortunate.

Walking back inside the cottage, Silas pulled the door shut behind him and went to work drawing the curtains closed. Closed tight. The only light came from the scant few candles resting in sconces along the walls. No fire burned in the hearth, and he missed its warmth.

Eyes planted firmly upon his feet, Silas fell into the chair at his father's side. So he would remain until dawn. There could be no magic. Not for any reason, and certainly not for his comfort. Seeing his breath hanging thick in the air, Silas wondered about the necessity of this tradition. But on this point, custom was firm: when a wizard's life was claimed by sorcery, his final rites mustn't include any of the same.

" _Mors vincit omnia_ ," Silas whispered the words, now more sure than ever of their truth. Death would always win.

" _Mors certa, hora incerta_ ," Alexis answered with the customary refrain, her hand on his shoulder. It was meant as a call to live life to the fullest, for death's hour was uncertain. Now, though, Silas took it as more of a warning. Death's hour was uncertain because _he_ —even in his own mind, Silas dared not articulate the name— _he_ could be anywhere. Or maybe everywhere.

He thought about Ryan, his eyes narrowing as he clenched his fists. Ryan, with his pure blood and quick wand. Had he known? Suspected? Silas remembered the story Ryan told him on the Express at the start of term. _He_ had broken bread beneath the Hawkins' roof. Ryan's parents planned to follow _Him._ Silas shook his head, trying to steer his thoughts away from that road. He needed to keep his wits about him. Or else…

They found his father in his shop, the books that had consumed his life hardly noticing his passing. It had been a neat job, quick and tidy. The Aurors doubted he'd even seen it coming. The Killing Curse, they told him. Painless, best anyone could tell. But what did they know?

He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "You don't need to be here, you know. I mean, if you wanted to be with your family-"

She pressed her forefinger against his lips, silencing him with her touch. "You need me."

Her tone invited no further discussion of the matter, so he didn't bother. Besides, she wasn't wrong. "Thanks, Ally. For everything."

She gave him a small smile, resting her hand on his knee. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes resting on his father's still form. It still didn't feel real. He looked away, rolling his head backward and staring at the ceiling. He didn't talk, and neither did she.

So they sat, waiting for minutes to turn to hours and the sun to fall then rise.

Sometime after dark, Silas felt his eyes fluttering closed. Beside him, Ally's breathing had long since evened out, her head lolling against his shoulder. Just as sleep prepared to claim him, the front door creaked open. Silas didn't turn around. He didn't need to. "Ryan."

Beside him, Alexis stirred. Ryan didn't answer, but Silas knew it was him. He could feel it. "I didn't think you'd come."

Ryan grabbed a chair and pulled it to Silas' side. Still, he didn't speak.

Alexis turned in her chair, her eyes clouded with sleep. "Silas? Ryan?"

A long moment passed with no one breaking the silence. Alexis gnawed on her lower lip and Silas cracked his knuckles. Finally, Ryan spoke.

"Gods, Silas, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." His voice was raw. Silas looked at him for the first time since his arrival. Dark circles had formed beneath his eyes and stubble marked his jaws. "If I'd known what he was planning—with your father—I would've…"

Ryan trailed off, exactly what he would have done going unsaid. But that was good enough for Silas. "I know."

Ryan nodded, casting his eyes above Silas' father. He threw his arm around his friend's shoulders. From the other side, Alexis did the same. Surrounded by the only two people he had left in the world, Silas allowed himself to cry.

* * *

The world around him felt different. Different in a way Silas couldn't put to words. How many times had he walked this path, crossed this bridge? He wouldn't even hazard a guess. He could make this walk in his sleep. Now, though, he found himself looking down, unsure of his footing.

The castle loomed ahead of him, its grey stone striking an imposing figure against the clear blue sky. He clamped down on his urge to turn and run.

Allie walked beside him. Ryan was up ahead. The silence cut to the bone. Each step seemed a mile. But on he went, for there was nowhere else to go

He wandered forward under the bright January sun, lost in the dark.

* * *

Silas cut a familiar course through the castle keeping his eyes cast forward and his jaw set. Conversations died around him as he went. There was no escaping it. No escaping the pitying glances and the "Poor Silas"es and the "All alone now, isn't he?"s. The half-whispers, spoken behind cupped hands but never exactly quiet, followed him. No matter where he went or what he did, the poisonous words crept into his ears. A constant reminder of what he'd lost and what he had to face. He ground his teeth and fought to keep the scowl from his face.

No less troublesome were the pointed looks from some of his housemates.

He hadn't seen Alexis or Ryan today. His fault as much as theirs, he supposed. He'd not exactly gone looking for them.

He allowed muscle memory to guide him as he wandered. Judging by the aching in his calves, he must've been climbing the stairs for a while now. Almost at once, he found himself at the top. The tip-top. The Astronomy Tower, more specifically.

He hadn't been up here in years. Silas and Astronomy hadn't ever seen eye to eye. The constellations were a load of rubbish in his estimation. Meaningless dots on a field of black.

Gilded telescopes surrounded him. He ran his hand across the nearest one and gave it a twirl. He didn't look through it. He found his way to the edge of the Tower and leaned against the balustrade. The cold night air whipped against his face and rustled his cloak. Usually Silas hated the cold, but in that moment he didn't mind. He leaned further out over the edge, standing on his toes and staring down at the ground.

"A long way to fall." The voice belonged to a woman, but Silas couldn't place it. Still, he didn't turn around.

"Long enough, I suppose." Below him, the rocky ground shone in the light of the moon. He pulled back and spun around. He rested his back against the parapet.

He hadn't seen her since the fall, when she'd left overnight and not come back. Lucy Hollingsworth looked much the same as she ever had. The same frizzy blonde hair and fair skin. The same green-trimmed robes. The eyes were different, though. She looked past Silas, or maybe through him, at a point way off in the distance.

"I didn't think you were coming back," he said.

She shrugged. "Neither did I."

Silas sat down with a thump, his back against the wall. Lucy joined him. Though they sat inches apart, neither made any move for the other's touch. Instead, Lucy pulled her legs close to her body, and Silas turned away from her.

"Does it ever get any easier?" he asked.

"God, I hope so."

* * *

He didn't see them until it was too late. Avery and Mulciber took him from behind. Silas may not have had Ryan's skill with a wand, but he could've matched the two of them in a fair fight. So they didn't give him one.

Silas pitched forward, barely able to get his hands up in time to keep his face from crashing against the masonry. By the time he reached for his wand, it was gone. He rolled over to face them. Mulciber smiled, a cruel thing with teeth bared and eyes dancing. Avery's face was blank.

Mulciber jabbed his wand at him. The hex hit Silas like a punch to the gut. He grunted as the wind was expelled from his lungs.

"No better than a Muggle, this one."

"Reckon we ought to snap his wand? Be doing him a favor, really."

Silas bit his tongue and narrowed his eyes. He didn't say anything. Instead, he kicked out with all the strength he could muster. His aim was true as his foot connected with Mulciber's knee. Silas almost grinned at the _pop_ he heard before Mulciber howled in pain and crashed to the ground.

His joy was short-lived. He never heard the curse, but he felt his throat constrict. Avery stood over him, face still expressionless. As Silas squirmed, Avery at last allowed his lips to twitch.

As his vision began to cloud, the door sprang open. Ryan crossed the threshold, fire burning behind his eyes. His wand was liquid in his hand. Avery flew through the air, spinning. He crashed against the far wall and pooled to the floor. Mulciber went silent.

Ryan never so much as looked at him. "Get back to your dormitory, Silas. Now."

Silas clambered to his feet and made for the door. Behind him, he heard Ryan go to work. " _Obliviate!_ "

Silas grasped his throat, flinching at the tenderness of the flesh, and shook his head.

* * *

Silas and Alexis lay in the shadow of the castle, overlooking the lake below them as the sun dipped low in the sky. Ryan was again absent.

"I sent them my acceptance," she said. "Saint Mungos, you know?"

Silas didn't respond for a long moment. He stared out across the water and watched it ripple in the fading sunlight. "Congratulations."

"I'm sorry, Si."

"It's your dream, Ally." He waved her toward him, and she scooted over and fell into his arms. He pulled her into his chest.

Even as he held her tight, he couldn't help but feel she was slipping away.

* * *

As morning approached, Silas lay somewhere between consciousness and sleep. As consciousness began to win out, the first things he noticed were the sounds. A creaking door, shuffling footsteps, and a familiar voice.

"You have to get up. Si, we've got to go."

"Hm?" Silas felt someone shaking him by his shoulders. He opened his eyes. Ryan stood above him, cast in shadows.

"We've got to get you out of here, Silas."

"Ryan?" Silas shook his head, trying to clear the sleep from his eyes. "What's going on?"

"No time. Grab your things." Silas frowned, staring into his friend's—his oldest friend's—eyes. Ryan wore a look of grim determination. Silas felt goosebumps raise on his arms at the look on Ryan's face.

"What-"

"Silas, do you trust me?"

He hesitated only a second before nodding.

"Then grab your things. We have to go."

Silas grabbed his wand and pointed it at his trunk. "Pack!" Items flew from around the room—clothing and knickknacks—and crammed themselves into his trunk. The lid slammed closed. Truth be told, there wasn't much to bring with him.

Ryan offered him a length of rope. "Take this."

Silas grabbed his trunk in one hand and took the portkey with the other. A distant voice told him that it was a trap. That he was being led to his death. But damn it all if he didn't trust his friend.

Ryan swallowed. "You're the best friend I've ever had. Stay safe, Silas."

He felt a tug at his navel as his body was contorted through time and space. When he landed, it was on unsteady footing. Sand. The beach. He recognized it. Dover. He'd been here with mother and father a lifetime ago. He knew France was just across the Channel. His eyes scanned the beach, but he saw no hint of betrayal. Instead, all he saw was Alexis. He replayed Ryan's last statement in his head.

Her eyes were rimmed with red, her hair frazzled. She wore a nightgown.

"Ally, what's going on?"

"It's the Dark Lord. There were plans… Ryan only just heard." She shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. "Silas, you have to go."

Her words took the wind from him.

"He left this for you." She held out another length of rope. "It'll take you to France. He sent you here first so I could—because I needed to-"

"To say goodbye?"

She could only nod.

"Ally, will you come with me?" It was the one question above all he feared to ask. Feared because he suspected the answer would crush him. But he asked it anyway. He had to _know_. Had to be certain.

Her eyes watered and she clenched her hands. He read the answer on her face before she began to shake her head. She needn't have voiced her answer. "I'm so sorry, Si. I'm going to be a Healer. I can't just…"

The world shook around him. Much as he'd seen it coming, her rejection damn near bowled him over. But now wasn't the time to grieve. He steeled himself and nodded at her. "I'll miss you, you know?"

She couldn't quite choke out a response.

"Don't reckon I'll ever forget you." Tears forced their way from his eyes too, now. "Take care of yourself, won't you?"

She threw her arms around him. For one last time, Silas lost himself in her embrace. She smelled like lavender and regret. Around them, the world kept spinning and the moment passed. When he pulled back, Silas looked her in the eye and knew he would never see her again.

Silently, he took the portkey from her hand. It activated on his touch, and Silas disappeared from her view.

Alone on the beach, Alexis stared out across the Channel as the water lapped against the shore. In the distance, birdsong greeted the rising sun. She dried her eyes.

 **End**

AN: Obviously my intention had been to finish this in relatively short order. Here we stand nearly two years later. Whoops.


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